


Appreciation

by Eloarei



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 15:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14428842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: It's been a while. Lunch may not be enough to fully show his appreciation, but it's something.





	Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

> I know HINABN is dead, but I get in a mood for it every so often.  
> This is not strictly related to my other PlesVes fic, "Life After Monsters", but it's pretty much in the same vein and can be read as a mid-quel.

It continued to be funny to Veser how sadness never really ever completely went away. Funny like maybe the uneasy laughter of being in a group of people you don't know and listening to an off-color joke that hit too close to home, not like an actual enjoyable sort of humor.  
  
It had been years now since--... since everything had changed. Years since Lee had died, since he'd seen _ hide  _ nor hair of his parents, since he'd meet the ragtag group of losers he'd come to consider his friends. Years since he'd been made aware of how big and how dangerous the supernatural world was, and… years since it had ceased to be a problem. Really it had only been a problem that one year.  
  
But still. Still it hurt sometimes.  
  
Like right now. He was on his way home from a morning shift down at the docks and it was a really nice day, a warm breeze blowing from inland and a cool one from the coast. He'd been pretty cheerful for weeks. But suddenly he found himself thinking. It wasn't anything in particular, just memories and emotions from his childhood and that tumultuous few months. His mother's dispassionate stare, Lee's lovelorn gaze, his father slamming doors. The anger and fear he felt when he started realizing something was wrong, more than it had always been. Finding Lee in that theater, the ghost and the zombie and Hanna and everything that happened after that, in a frenzy of danger and secrets wrung from unwilling conspirators. How mad he'd been at _ everyone,  _ anyone he could blame, especially Ples-- or whatever that alter-ego liked to call himself.  
  
By the time he realized he was shaking with the weight of it all, he'd stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, found himself staring down at the cracks in the pavement.  
  
But after all of that, it had turned out okay. In his darkest moments, when the silence and stillness of the aftermath was becoming unbearable and he didn't know what to do next, Ples was there. Maybe he'd only reached out because he was suffering too, from the sudden weight of the responsibility of this thing he hadn't been able to control, and the unusual emptiness of having it gone after so long. Maybe he'd seen Veser as not only a victim, but someone who might be able to understand. It had been years they'd been living together now, but Veser had never asked. It had worked out, and that was all that had mattered to him.  
  
He knew he really had Ples to thank for much of how his life had gotten better. Without him, Veser might have let go, spiraled off into the void of meaninglessness that had been his battered psyche at the time. He still didn't know quite how to thank him for all of that.  
  
Lunch wouldn't be enough to thank him, but it was something. It was something he needed and something Veser could provide, and an excuse to see him. It wasn't as if Veser couldn't wait another few hours, but why wait when you don't have to? So he headed in the direction of the highrise Ples worked in, stopping by his favorite Vietnamese place on the way.  
  
This wasn't the first time he'd done something like this, not that he made a habit out of it. He'd brought Ples lunch maybe a total of two other times before, but the receptionist still recognized him and let him through without much fuss. There were a few raised eyebrows as he wound through the office towards Ples’s desk; whether it was because he was clearly an outsider in his street clothes or because of his overall appearance, he wasn't sure. But nobody stopped him, so it didn't matter. He was used to people looking at him like that.  
  
Ples was doing calculations of some sort on a sheet of paper, mostly ignoring his PC until he had to enter something in on the screen. He was focused, and didn't notice Veser standing there until he shook the plastic bag a little, its rustling drawing the man’s attention. Ples didn’t quite startle, but he blinked and looked over at Veser with his head cocked slightly, his annoyed expression melting into more of a fondness when he realized who it was.   
  
“Oh, Veser. What brings you here?” he asked, setting his pen down and sitting up straighter. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed somewhat when Veser shrugged.    
  
“Nothin’,” he said. “Just thought you might be hungry or something.” He placed the bag down on an empty space on the desk, far enough from any papers not to risk dripping sauce or condensation on them, then he pulled up a spare chair from the empty desk nearby.    
  
“Thank you,” Ples said with a smile that was in his eyes more than any other part of his face. “I’ve been too busy to consider lunch.”    
  
Veser leaned back in his chair while Ples lifted the styrofoam boxes out of the bag. “I figured,” he said, though it was less ‘figuring’ and more being familiar enough now with how Ples worked that he didn’t really have to stop and think about it.    
  
Ples moved his calculations aside and the two of them shared their lunch there at his shiny, glass-top desk. Veser admired the fact that Ples didn’t warn him away from making a mess. They’d adjusted to each other quite well enough that it wasn’t remotely necessary anymore; Veser was more mindful these days of how his actions affected others, even just dumb things like leaving damp rings on tables from cold glasses, while Ples had come to realize that those things really weren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, that they were quite small problems compared to what they’d had to deal with before. They weren’t conscious changes, so they fact that Veser was aware of them at all that day was a testament to his contemplative mood.    
  
They’d eaten most of their meal, chatting between or around mouthfuls and mostly ignoring and being ignored by Ples’ coworkers as they went back and forth to the copy machine or wherever, before someone stopped a foot or so behind Veser, arms crossed as they regarded Ples with a mischievous and questioning look.    
  
“Did I miss the notice about ‘’Bring your kid to work’ day’?”    
  
Veser turned around slowly, sneering at the guy. “‘Scuse me?”    
  
“Thomas,” Ples said in short greeting. “Can I help you?”    
  
Thomas affected an innocent confusion. “No, I just thought it would be polite to come meet your… what? Your son? Grandson?”    
  
Veser couldn’t help the scoff that came out of his mouth, even if he knew he ought to at least  _ try _ to be polite to Ples’ coworkers. Grandson? The guy was fucking kidding, clearly just being an asshole, because Ples’ streaks of pale grey didn’t remotely make him look like he was old enough to have a fucking  _ grandson _ his age.    
  
Ples sighed and blinked rapidly, as if to clear his mind of the frustration of having to deal with such an idiot. “Well that’s very  _ polite  _ of you,” he said, fixing Thomas with a steely, rather murderous gaze. “But Veser is my boyfriend.”    
  
The annoyance of having to deal with the kind of jackass this Thomas guy clearly was was completely replaced by surprise, and if Veser hadn’t finished his food and set it aside, he’d have choked on it or spilled it all over him. Though he and Ples had been… what probably most people would call dating for maybe the last year or so, this was the first time he’d ever heard Ples actually  _ say _ it to someone else, just admit it like it was no big deal, a fact of life. They hadn’t talked about this, but Veser had just assumed that, well, it made sense for Ples not to tell people. He was such a private person, and this was… complicated. Different. Weird?    
  
What was really weird though was hearing the word ‘boyfriend’ come out of his mouth. Talk about anachronism. Even ‘partner’ or ‘significant other’ would have been a little strange, but straight up  _ boyfriend _ was nothing short of shocking.    
  
As odd and surprising as Ples’s response was, Veser didn’t let himself get caught up on it for more than a bare moment. He schooled his expression into a daring, almost dispassionate one similar to what Ples wore and turned to look up at Thomas, who was clearly floundering as well. He didn’t say anything, but he hoped the look implied, ‘you got a fucking problem with that?’    
  
He’d already guessed that Thomas  _ knew _ , or at least was pretty sure, what Ples and Veser’s approximate relationship was. People who looked at them like that, who threw ‘grandson’ at them as an insult or pointed out how  _ old _ Ples looked compared to Veser’s  _ clear immaturity _ , always knew what they were really making fun of them for. But in Thomas’s case, at least, he obviously hadn’t expected them to simply admit it, to own up to it and refuse to be shamed. He stammered for a moment, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation when his bullying didn’t go according to plan.    
  
“Oh yeah, my bad,” he said, pasting a half-convincing apologetic smile on his face. “Nice to meet you,” he said to Veser, with about as little genuine care as possible, before turning to Ples and ending the conversation. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but let me know if you need anything.”    
  
And then he left, which was more than fine with the both of the men he left behind. Ples just rolled his eyes, an expression Veser freaking  _ loved _ to see on him. “Apologies,” he said to Veser. “Not all of my coworkers have the sense to employ very much tact when meeting new people.”    
  
Veser didn’t really care about that, used to it as he was. “So, boyfriend, huh?” he asked with a playful smirk.    
  
“Is that not the right term?” Ples raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise occupied himself with clearing their boxes away.    
  
“Uh.” Veser grinned, suddenly feeling  _ just _ a little bit shy, and sort of giddy. “No, yeah, it’s fine. I was just, y’know.”    
  
“Caught a bit off guard?” Ples returned his smirk, and Veser’s heart skipped just a little,  _ little _ bit of a beat. It probably didn’t reflect very well on him, but god if he didn’t like a very slightly dangerous look every so often.    
  
“Nah,” he said, waving it off. He didn’t feel like admitting it right now, and luckily Ples was magnanimous enough to let him pretend. 


End file.
